


a father of sorts

by wyvernknighted



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen, Gerome struggling to show emotional vulnerability while Stahl begs him to throw him a bone, Mention of family member death, Stahl loves his wife, stahl week, stahl week 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernknighted/pseuds/wyvernknighted
Summary: Though his son from the future seems disinterested in connecting with him or Cherche, Stahl is determined to bond with Gerome. He manages to spend more time with him after Gerome agrees to teach him needlework.written for day 6 of Stahl week for the prompt family
Relationships: Serge | Cherche/Sort | Stahl
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	a father of sorts

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of Stahl-as-gerome’s dad thoughts so I tried to write a fic. It ended up longer than intended but! I’m happy with it I think.
> 
> Frederick is Laurent’s dad in this and that matters for like two whole sentences.
> 
> There are enough Stahl/Cherche moments in this for me to consider it a central ship for the fic, but the focus of this is moreso on parenthood (mainly Stahl’s relationship with his son, Gerome).

Stahl’s grip on his lance folded against the unstoppable weight of Frederick’s blow. Normally he put up more of a fight, but with his mind elsewhere he didn’t stand a chance. This time, the force of Frederick’s attack knocked him back against the hardened dirt of the training grounds. He tried not to think about the dirt stains he would have to scrub out of his trousers later.

“You’re either out of practice,” Frederick said as he extended a hand. Stahl took it and promptly pulled himself up. “or something is on your mind, friend.”

Stahl sighed. “Guilty as charged. To the, uh, second option that is.” He picked up his lance, wiping away the dirt from its rusted edge.

“I can offer my advice, if that might prove useful.” Frederick said matter-of-factly. “Perhaps airing out your concerns could help?” His voice was not particularly comforting, but Stahl decided to talk about it regardless. Perhaps a second opinion wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s just…” Stahl shrugged, uncomfortable now that he had to actually verbalize the mixed feelings in his gut. “I feel like my son doesn’t like me.”

“Gerome?” Frederick hummed. “He does seem like a difficult person to connect with.”

"Yeah, I just don't know what to do...Honestly, how do you do it?" Once Stahl started talking about this problem, his anxieties welled up like a rush of water. “I mean, your relationship with Laurent seems…fun? I don’t know. Better than whatever I have going on with Gerome…I feel like I have no idea how to talk to him without upsetting him.” He sighed, scratching at his tangled hair. “And it’s like, the more I try to make things work, the worse they get…”

“A troubling issue indeed. However, I fear it's not one I can address briefly. Here, let’s take a moment.” Frederick placed a hand on his shoulder and guided Stahl to sit beside him on a nearby railing. “Though it may seem pleasant to you, my relationship with Laurent started out quite strained. He used to never rely on me. It took multiple attempts on my end for him to even consider sharing his concerns with me bluntly. The boy takes after me in that way, always trying to solve his problems on his own.”

Stahl nodded. “Oh yeah, I can see that. Gerome is kinda similar in that way, huh.”

“I have noticed that many from their generation are. That is something we must keep in mind when we speak with them. They have seen the sort of horrors we only have nightmares about. That was their reality for years.” Even as he spoke about it, Frederick tensed with a protective air. Stahl felt it too, that indignant need to protect this person who he had only just learned about, who he had wondered about since he was young. Even when he was a kid, Stahl had dreamt about what his future home might look like, who his spouse might be. What their children might look like. Seeing his son, so quiet and distant and thoroughly disinterested in speaking to him, had worn away at him more than he cared to admit.

“It’s horrible that they had to go through that…I just want Gerome to know that he can rely on me.” Stahl kicked out his foot, feeling a bit hopeless about the whole thing.

Frederick mused. “It might simply take time.”

“It’s been a few months now though. Trying to bond with him has the same outcome as when we first met...he just runs off with his wyvern.” He leaned back with a deep sigh.

“Your son does seem to startle easily. That much I’ve observed from your attempts to appease him.”

Stahl groaned. “It’s not funny!”

Frederick waved a hand with a light laugh. “It was merely a jest. He might just need time and patience. If he does not wish to talk about his troubles, then show him you are reliable in other ways.”

“Like how?”

“Does he have any interests? That is how I encouraged Laurent to speak to me more. I talked to him about magic and once he started explaining it to me, he did not pause for at least an hour.” Frederick chuckled. “Luckily, conversations with his mother had prepared me for such an occurrence, so I was able to keep up with his train of thought most of the time.”

“Hobbies huh….” Stahl rubbed his chin as he thought. “Minerva doesn’t count as a hobby…I think I’ve seen him sewing around camp?”

“Maybe that is a good place to start. Perhaps he could teach you to mend something?”

“Hm…I’ll have to think about it more.” He nodded, his resolve clear on his face. He would not mess up this attempt up for sure!

* * *

Gerome was lingering near the edge of camp, feeding Minerva fresh cuts of meat. He usually fed her around this time of day. Stahl was standing a few paces back, his presence still unknown. He had just spent the last few minutes hyping himself up to propose this idea to his son, but at the precipice of the encounter he found himself wavering ever so slightly.

Stahl took a few careful steps, hesitant. He tried to keep quiet, but he never was particularly graceful. At the crackle of twigs, Minerva lifted her head and snorted in greeting. Gerome’s shoulders rose, but he remained turned away.

Well, that didn’t work. Might as well be direct. “Hey, Gerome?” Stahl tried to play it off casually. He knew that overfamiliarity never failed to repel his son. He needed to use careful words, spoken in a soft voice. Gerome turned towards him, the edge of his mask visible over the edge of his cheek. Stahl couldn’t help but feel like he was on thin ice here. Still, he persisted.

“Can I ask for your help?”

Gerome grumbled. “Surely my aid has been enough for you lot.”

“I mean, I appreciate your help with the war effort. Really, I do!” Stahl hurried to clarify. He saw Gerome’s eyebrow raise past the edge of his mask. Stahl paused for a moment, taking a quick breath to steady himself. He could not mess up this delivery, not unless he wanted to see his son scramble up Minerva’s back and take off into the sky. “It’s just, you’re the only person I can ask this of. And it kind of concerns your mother.”

Gerome faced him fully now. “What do you mean?”

“I want to make something special for her. She’s been bogged down by all of the…well you know.” They were still making preparations to cross the sea to Valm, and her homeland was currently conquered. He felt the reason for her distress did not need much explanation, at least not to her son. From the way that Gerome nodded and crossed his arms, now fully engaged in the conversation, Stahl knew that he had guessed correctly.

“What do you want to make?” Gerome asked.

“I was thinking about making her something with needlework. It’s a skill she’s pretty good at, and I want to…er, give it a try, I guess? It seemed like a good idea to me at least.” Stahl laughed, scratching the back of his head. He had originally intended his needlework project with Gerome to be something random, but when he realized he could use it to make a gift for his wife, that had seemed like the optimal solution. A way to support the two members of his family in one fell swoop.

Gerome’s stiff frown remained fixed in place. “And you need me for this because?”

“I’ve seen you mending stuff around camp! Don’t you know about needlework?”

He huffed. “I suppose I do. What is it exactly that you would like to make?”

“Here uh, I have some ideas. We can talk about it on the way to my tent. I’ve got all the supplies we could need.”

Gerome regarded him for a moment, and Stahl was almost certain he meant to turn away. For a moment, he did, offering Minerva one last cut of meat. She snapped up the morsel with a low growl. And then, Gerome paid Minerva farewell with a slight nod and walked towards Stahl. Minerva puffed out air at him, a sign of acknowledgement. At least, that’s what Cherche had called it. It seemed more like a sneeze to Stahl, but he always trusted Cherche’s opinion over his own when it came to Minerva.

“Come on then,” Gerome grumbled. “Let’s get this over with.

* * *

If there was one thing Stahl wanted, it was a home. So while on the road, he did anything and everything he could think of to make his shared tent with Cherche feel like one. There were small details that made it feel lived in – the small brush that Cherche used to polish Minerva’s fangs, their dingy little boot rack by the entrance, even the single perfume bottle that Cherche had brought with her from Rosanne, each added another layer of comfort. He liked how the tent that was once his alone was now populated with small reminders of Cherche’s presence. It made him feel confident in their bond. He loved how easily and naturally their lives had folded together after exchanging vows. Each day he made sure to remember the details of their life together so far, as that was his favorite thing about being with another person – cherishing the small parts of their life, the ones that others might overlook.

And the thing that made him feel happiest in the morning, in this place they called a temporary home, was tidying up. Stahl was now making their bed, a cot just big enough for the two of them, while humming to himself. He liked to feel handy, and he made sure to tuck the corners of the sheet just the way that Cherche preferred. It was rare that he found someone with more particular tastes to domestic tidiness than himself, but he didn’t mind it one bit. A clean house often was a happy house. Or in this case, tent. He’ll take what he can get.

He heard the shift of canvas as Cherche lightly stepped into their tent, a troubled look on her face. “Dear, have you seen my crafting scissors?”

Stahl lost focus on his activity, the corner of the sheet falling away from the bed’s edge. “Huh?”

“The small scissors that are normally in my sewing kit.” She glanced around once more, perhaps hoping to find them sitting out somewhere. “Have you seen them?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Stahl straightened up, the bedsheets lying forgotten on the cot. “I let Gerome borrow them.”

“Why would Gerome need them?”

“Well, I was trying to keep it a surprise but…” Stahl shrugged. “I asked him to teach me some sewing stuff. To spend time with him, you know?”

Cherche’s face cleared, the confusion dissipating at his explanation. “Oh, that sounds like a wonderful idea.” Then the edge of her smile sharpened just a bit. “Make sure you ask to borrow them next time, though.”

“Of course!” Stahl said apologetically. “I’m sorry, I should have ran it by you first.” He’s glad that he at least didn’t need to reveal the additional reason for the their meetings – his gift for her. That surprise he could save for later. “I’ll make sure to fetch them for you, since I was the one who lent them out in the first place.”

“Thank you dear.” Cherche said. “How are things with Gerome anyway? I know you’ve been worried about him lately.”

“Things are getting better, I think.” Stahl sat on the edge of their cot and patted the spot next to him. His perfect bed corners were a lost cause, but that’s something he can accept. He’ll just have to tidy up the sheets later. Cherche sat down next to him as she replied.

“I’m glad to hear it. Do you think the sewing lessons are helping?”

“Maybe a little? I think it’s also about patience. He takes a while to warm up to people I think.” Stahl sighed. “I wonder who he got that from…”

Cherche chuckled. “Probably me.”

“You think so?” Stahl turned to regard her just slightly. He could see the corner of her mouth tighten at the question, almost nearing the curve of a frown.

“I might not seem it on surface, but I tend to keep my distance from others. When I first came to Ylisse, it took a while to warm up to…well everyone.” Cherche said, her eyes looking far off. This was the first Stahl heard of such sentiment from her. He listened closely. “I think being with Minerva so long has left me similar to her in some ways. Wyverns are territorial, but also very devoted to those they are attached to. So I suppose I can be wary of new people, but quite loyal once someone proves themself worth the effort.”

“I see. And you think Gerome is the same way?” Stahl asked.

“Oh, certainly.” Cherche nodded. “I think he’s much more like Minerva in that way. Probably because…for so long she was all he had.” A somber look crossed her face. Stahl felt it too. The echo of the future their child bore, all alone, formed a well of sympathy in his gut, made him wish he could get Gerome to open up about it. To ask for help. It made him feel more motivated than ever to work on developing his relationship with him.

After a beat of silence, as they both fell into thoughts of their child, Stahl sighed. “Well, if you’re like that too…what would you recommend?”

“Hm…I suppose I might know better than you on that end, huh?” Cherche leaned back on her arm. “For me, it just took time. And when I see someone making genuine effort to connect with me, I’m more likely to let my guard down. Like when you tried to give me that handkerchief—”

“Oh, don’t bring that up!” Stahl mussed up his hair, as if trying to wipe the memory from his brain. “That was so embarrassing, I couldn’t talk to you for days afterward.”

“But that was why it allowed me to trust you a bit more,” Cherche said. “It showed me how sincere you are as a person, and that you genuinely cared about me.”

Stahl sighed, his expression still troubled. “Alright, well if it meant that much to you, I guess I can’t regret it as much.”

Cherche laughed at him. “There you go, with that furrowed brow of yours. Perhaps Gerome inherited that one from you?”

Stahl laughed back in response, “Yeah that checks out.” He leaned towards her, shoulder bumping shoulder. “I’m glad you opened up to me, eventually. Thanks for trusting me.”

“Thanks for being worth the effort.” Cherche hummed, resting her head on his shoulder. “And when it comes to Gerome, it just might be a matter of effort as well. If you work for it, and genuinely want to develop that relationship, I think he’ll come around.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Cherche said it with such conviction, he found it hard to doubt her.

* * *

“And then you thread the string like this.” Gerome’s words were slow but his movements were far too quick for Stahl to keep up with. Gerome wielded the needle like a habit, something he controlled as naturally as his axe. It was amusing, how comfortable he looked with a thimble on his thumb and an embroidery hoop balanced on his knee. Stahl struggled to keep his eyes trained in the right place. As he mimicked Gerome’s actions, he pricked his finger once again.

“Ouch!” Stahl pulled off the thimble and sucked on his now bleeding thumb. “I thought these were supposed to help?”

“It seems you have a talent for injury even with the appropriate armor.” Gerome said, his tone dead pan but…was that a smile on his face? Was he snickering?

“Are you making fun of me?” Stahl asked, his voice raising with surprised indignance.

“Not particularly.” The shadow of a laugh fled from his face, and his son regarded him with that same inscrutable expression once more. He showed Stahl the same motion once again. “Now try holding the needle like this. It’s your grip that’s the problem.”

Stahl sighed as he copied it. “How’d you even learn all of this?”

Gerome stilled, his needle hovering just above the fabric. “Mother taught me.”

His voice was unexpectedly quiet. From the way his posture stiffened, he must have caught him off guard. Stahl realized that the woman who Gerome was thinking of was not the woman he had married, but the Cherche from the future. He wondered how different Gerome’s real parents were from the two of them.

But when Gerome was thinking of them, there was an undeniable softness in his expression, paired with a slight melancholic dip in his posture. Even though Gerome could hide his expression, Stahl had learned how to read his emotions through his body language. Seeing his son so moved spurred Stahl’s next impulsive words.

“It seems like you paid close attention. You must have worked hard to learn it well.”

A beat of awkward silence, and then a huffed breath from Gerome. His mask could hide the edge of his cheek and the dip of his brow, but it did not stretch far enough to conceal the creeping blush along his neck, nor the rise of color to the tips of his ears. Stahl almost pointed it out, before recalling that it would certainly end with Gerome fleeing from him. He bit his tongue.

His son’s gaze remained steadily trained upon the embroidery hoop before him. “Yes well, I enjoyed their guidance while I could. It doesn’t matter. Let’s continue.”

Stahl saw the line in the sand and did not cross it. That’s enough talk of the future for one day. Stahl returned to his attempted needlework, only yelping a little bit when he pricked himself once more.

* * *

It was lunch time, and Stahl headed to the mess tent to meet Cherche. Lunch was the time of day in which they caught up with one another. He looked forward to hearing all about the little details of Cherche’s mornings, the things that stuck in her mind as relevant to bring up, because he loved everything about her – the mundane little moments included. Even though they couldn’t live out their domestic married life together in a cozy little cottage in Valm, as he had originally envisioned, this midday check-in was close enough.

As he made his way over, however, he spied the dark silhouette of his son, lingering near the entrance of the mess tent with his arms crossed.

“Oh, hey Gerome! Are you grabbing lunch?”

His son didn’t turn to regard him, but Stahl could tell he had heard. He could see the curl of gloved fingers tighten in the fabric of his sleeve. Several beats of silence later, the tightness of his grip fell away and he sighed.

“I was waiting for the rush to die down.” Gerome said at last.

“Oh, I get that. Eating with the crowd can be stressful.” Stahl almost patted his shoulder, a habit he had picked up from Chrom. But he stopped mid-action, realizing that it would just make Gerome uncomfortable. He played it off awkwardly, running a nervous hand through his hair instead. “But hey, me and your mom have a nice spot that we like to eat together. The weather’s nice too. Would you want to join us?”

Gerome finally looked at him, though the mask wasn’t doing Stahl any favors on gauging his reaction. After a moment of staring with that imperceptible expression, he shrugged. “I suppose.”

Stahl genuinely had not expected him to agree, so he couldn’ hide his surprise in time. Luckily Cherche interrupted before he could sputter out an embarrassing reply.

“Oh, my two favorite people!” Cherche said brightly, blotting out any of Stahl’s prior awkwardness with that warm smile of hers. “Did I miss something?”

“Well, Gerome just said he’d like to join us for lunch!” Stahl explained. At that, Cherche clapped lightly and Gerome flinched.

“I—” Gerome sputtered for a moment. “Those were not the exact words I used.”

“You agreed, it’s close enough!” Stahl pulled him toward the tent with a light laugh, while Cherche followed. And that was how they ended up sharing a meal together, as a family, for the first time.

As Stahl watched his son nervously pick at his food, he couldn’t help but feel proud – proud of Gerome, for how long he’s been able to take care of himself. But also proud of the three of them, for slowly progressing towards some sort of bond. It was not long ago that Gerome would have simply ignored his request, or instantly shot it down. But he had lingered, even agreed to spend time with them. Sure, it had been with a shrug and reluctant tone, but that was something Stahl could work with. Even though he tried, Stahl couldn’t quite repress the smile that kept returning to his face each time Cherche and Gerome exchanged quiet words over their meal. For the first time, he could imagine a time in which all three of them were close, seated at a table together over a homemade meal – his recipe or Cherche’s perhaps. Or maybe it was Gerome who had cooked for them, eager to show them that he could care for himself, and them as well. As Stahl grew caught up in his musings, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

“You okay there, dear?” Cherche asked. Stahl realized he had spaced out, forgetting to pay attention or even eat in lieu of his daydream.

“Just lost in thought. Nothing to worry about.” He gave her a wink and took another bite of his soup before it went cold.

Gerome remained quiet for most of their lunch. But the quiet the three of them shared was comforting. Stahl swore he saw the light beginnings of a smile on his son’s face more than a few times.

* * *

Gerome had decided that he needed something small to work on, since there was not enough time for him to learn how to craft a complex design. They had agreed upon handkerchief embroidered with red flowers, their petals round swirls of crimson against the cream colored cloth. Stahl wanted to depict a native flower from Rosanne, since Cherche loved her home so deeply. And a handkerchief echoed their awkward days of pining, when he had attempted to cement their friendship with a custom he sorely misunderstood. Luckily, Cherche had been understanding and still gave him the time of day after that.

As Stahl worked on the gift for Cherche, Gerome pulled his needle through a cloak that he was mending for a friend.

“How’s this?” Stahl held up the little square of fabric. Gerome paused his needle to appraise Stahl’s work. Whenever Gerome pointed his mask in his direction, it put him on edge just slightly. He wished he could have the benefit of seeing his entire face, to be able to understand his son’s reactions more consistently. However, he was still improving at reading Gerome’s body language, since the mask was a seemingly permanent fixture. That’s how he knew that Gerome would shake his head with a frown moments before he actually did so.

“You’ll need to start over.” Gerome said, tracing his finger along the red thread. “Your stitches are still messy.”

“Oh no…” Stahl sighed as he looked more closely at the cloth. “You’re absolutely right. This is harder than it looks.”

“It just takes practice. You’ll improve in no time, father.”

Both Stahl and Gerome froze.

“Did you ju—”

“I did not me—”

Their sentences collided in the same moment, voices breaking off into a painfully awkward silence.

After a few tense beats, Stahl decided it was worth saying. “I think that’s the first time you’ve called me father.” He tried keep his tone even, but he couldn’t help the sentimental air to his words.

Gerome sighed deeply. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t dwell on it.” He returned to his work, his mouth a hard line.

Stahl decided to take a risk. “Hey, Gerome?” His son lifted his head to regard him. “What was your dad like? The real one?”

He half-expected Gerome to turn away, get up from his seat and call the whole thing off. His son did not exhibit such drama. The thin line of his mouth only deepened into a frown, tinged with sadness. It was perhaps worse, that his reaction was so resigned. In that frown Stahl could almost see a crack in the shell, a drop in his guard that allowed Stahl to perceive just a corner of his true grief. The fragment of it burnt into his own chest, as he imagined what it must have been like for him. To be so young and burdened by grief, to cope with that loss in a world torn apart by war. To be utterly alone in the years following. His heart ached for his son, and still it was perhaps only an echo of the pain that Gerome had endured.

Gerome remained silent for several moments.

“If you don’t want to talk—”

“No.” He interrupted Stahl, raising a hand. “I can share a bit. If you would like.”

Stahl nodded, perhaps a bit too energetically. He was trying so hard to be receptive and kind, it filled him with a restless energy.

“Though, before I begin, I have a question for you. Something I always wanted to ask my true father.”

“Oh, sure! Go on.” Stahl said.

“Why do you care so much about Rosanne?” Gerome pointed at the pattern on the table before them, red flowers of that land. “You chose it specifically for Cherche, but I know that you care for it too based on how you speak of it.”

Stahl didn’t think about his response, the words reflexive. “Cherche’s home is my home.”

“But why? Did you not grow up in Ylisse?”

“I did grow up in Ylisse, but Rosanne is important to me as well." He said frankly. "I promised to help restore Rosanne after the war. To live there and help it grow, with Cherche by my side. Those were part of my wedding vows to your mother. So, yeah. I care about it because it’s her home. And her home is my home.” Stahl wished he could put it into more clear terms, but that was the best explanation he could come up with.

Gerome set his project upon the table, the thick wool of the cloak scraping against wood. “Amazing.” He said, more to himself than to Stahl.

“What?” Stahl had assumed the words had been for him. He looked at Gerome in confusion.

“Even in this timeline, you hold the same dream.” Gerome tapped a pensive beat against the wooden table with his finger. Now that he had started talking, the words flowed from him without warning. “You spouted the same nonsense, even when the world was breaking apart at the seams. You said I would see Rosanne someday. That you and mother would travel with me to Valm. It never came to pass, of course. You and mother were always caught up in the conflicts of Ylisse. And when you died…” Gerome’s voice thickened as he trailed off. His shoulders hunched forward, and he brought his hands together with a sigh.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Stahl dropped his project on the table, turning all of his attention to Gerome. “I didn’t mean to bring up old wounds. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s alright.” Gerome’s hand rested near the edge of his mask, adjusting it slightly. It sat as firmly as ever, a perpetual barrier. “I was curious as well.”

“I, uh, don’t know how much comfort I can really offer. And uh,” Stahl reached forward, hesitant at first. But he brought his hand over Gerome’s. He kept his touch light. To his surprise, Gerome did not flinch away. “I know I can’t be the guy from your time. That Stahl will always be your Stahl. But, if you want, I could be there for you. As myself. As a father, of sorts.”

Gerome glanced down at their shared grip for a moment before raising his face to meet Stahl’s gaze – Stahl’s searching expression to Gerome’s blank, masked one. “A father, of sorts.” He said, in agreement. Stahl did not miss the charged emotion in his voice, or how his hand wavered beneath his own, overcome by an emotion not fully repressed. Stahl gave him a reassuring smile, and broke their grip with a light pat on his hand.

“Sounds good to me.”

* * *

Three days later, Stahl presented his project before his son once again. Gerome pinched the cloth between his thumb and forefinger, appraising it for just a moment. His lip curled, and the mask obscured the look in his eyes. Stahl was already mentally preparing himself for the criticism. This was his fifth try after all.

“Perfect.” Gerome set the handkerchief in Stahl’s palm. Stahl just blinked at him, not quite comprehending.

“Wait, really?” Stahl’s tone was disbelieving. “You mean it?”

“Yes. It is the best quality you’ve achieved so far, and you matched the pattern very closely. As I said, perfect.” Gerome crossed his arms and Stahl just knew he was raising those eyebrows beneath the mask. His assumption was confirmed when he caught the barest edge of Gerome’s eyebrow’s peeking over the corner of his mask, light brown like his own. “Do you doubt its quality?”

“N-no, not at all!” Stahl put out his hands in a gesture of disagreement, and the cloth almost fell from his grasp. He struggled to catch it again. When he finally secured it, he sighed, leaning with his hands on his knees. “I just thought it would take a lot longer.”

“Yes well, you improved quickly. Thankfully.” Gerome pulled the strands of red thread around its spool as he began to clean up.

“Yeah, but that was thanks to you mostly!” Stahl exclaimed. “You were very patient! You make a good teacher.”

Gerome shrugged. “I just replicated what my parents did for me, nothing more.”

“Wait, did I, uh…”

“Yes.” Gerome placed the spool of thread beside the others, red between orange and yellow. Just as Cherche always did, with her colors in perfect order. “You taught me some skills as well. You had learned needlework from mother years before I was born. Mother was always better than you were but…you were quick to improve back then. Just as you are, now.”

Stahl was completely caught off guard. “You mean, that I uh—”

“You replicated the desires of your future self near perfectly. The only anomaly this time was my role in the whole thing.” He saw the corners of Gerome’s mouth twitch and, no? Was he smiling? He was smiling! Stahl suppressed the urge to rub his eyes and test whether it was real.

However, he could not stop himself from replying, somewhat awkwardly. “Haha, classic me. I guess. Wow that’s weird.”

“I found it amusing.” Stahl might’ve thought that he imagined the warmth in Gerome’s tone, but he was still wearing a light smile. The sort of smile that one wore without realizing it, that came in response to comfort and idle happiness.

Stahl decided to try his luck one more time.

“Hey Gerome, I was wondering…” His son froze in his motion, his mask pointed at him. Stahl held on to his courage and continued to speak. “Would you want to, uh, give this gift to Cherche with me? Since y’know, you helped me so much with it and everything.”

Gerome paused a moment before breaking the silence. “Very well then.”

Internally, Stahl threw up his fist in a show of triumph. Externally, he clapped Gerome’s shoulder and said with a wide smile, “That’s my boy!”

Gerome’s smile fled, but it was quickly replaced with a blush that creeped past the barrier of his mask. His ears even turned red, a trait he had most likely gotten from Stahl.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to embara—”

“It’s fine.” Gerome looked away, covering his face with his hand. “Don’t mind it.”

“Whatever you say!”

Gerome merely grumbled, but now Stahl knew that his stiff posture wasn’t because he was upset. He was just a little uncomfortable with emotional vulnerability.

The two presented the gift to Cherche hours later, when she had finished her inventory duty for the day. The joy it brought to her face was priceless. When she leaned forward, bringing them both into a tight hug, Stahl noticed the waver of a smile on Gerome’s own face. Here they were, he thought. A family of sorts, reunited across time. He tightened his grip around Cherche’s side, around Gerome’s shoulders, and allowed himself to feel content, at last, with the family he had gained.

**Author's Note:**

> I always knew that I liked Stahl as Gerome’s dad because of his supports with both Cherche and Gerome, but it was only after sitting down writing this fic that I realized how much I love stahl/cherche. They’re so cute ;w;
> 
> I also love Stahl!Gerome learning domestic housekeeping stuff from both his mom and dad, so he has the most domestic skills and whenever it comes up with his friends, they’re (`O`) and say “you’re so good at random housekeeping stuff” and he’s just like “forget you ever learned this about me” and runs lmao
> 
> also stahl makes little herbal ointments for Minerva to help strengthen her scales and fangs, I couldn’t work it in, but that’s another headcanon for this lovely wyvern family. you're welcome.


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